


Birds in the Academy

by kayisdreaming



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Oneshot, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Run where a few others are recruited, implied some pairings for annette and dorothea but nothing explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:15:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25416772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayisdreaming/pseuds/kayisdreaming
Summary: When Dorothea comes to visit Garreg Mach, she finds something surprising.And Annette just finds herself embarrassed.
Kudos: 8





	Birds in the Academy

Dorothea recognized quite early that her success was the blessing of years of hard work mixed with sheer luck. Considering her history, she was fairly certain that luck was the greater contributor. That it was the one thing still leading her toward a bright future.

But with the war and the damage it had inflicted—especially for those who _hadn't_ had her luck—well, her future could be put on hold. Just until people had the means to smile again.

More recently, she occupied herself by donating from her opera earnings, working in the orphanages, bringing food to dilapidated villages, and speaking with the Emperor about things that weren't generally considered important enough for royal attention.

It was this sort of thing brought her to the Academy.

Due to Edelgard's insistence, the Academy had been limited to a learning establishment only, where students could better themselves and their skills. She never really got to enjoy it, though. There was always too much going on: either she was hosting an event to raise money, or passing on messages between Byleth and Edelgard, or she was swarmed by people still asking for her hand in marriage.

It was one of those latter times that had her seeking refuge in the Library. No one would suspect that Dorothea the Diva would ever venture here, of all places. Nor would they know that, at one time, this place had been a good friend for the very same reason.

She sighed in relief. It was quiet here. No one was clamoring for her attention, no one was trying to get her to do something, no one was asking her about her plans for the event in Garreg Mach. There was only blissful silence.

Somewhere beyond the shelves, a hum eased into the room. Sensibility would have had her leave it be—to ignore her curiosity, for her own sake. But she couldn't resist. This tune was unfamiliar; it was no song she'd ever sung, and certainly no melody she'd ever heard.

The melody was irregular, inconsistent. Its range was limited, no doubt a result of the singer's minor skill, though it actually served the song well. True, it was unconventional. Certainly untrained. But, with just a little polish for both the song and its singer . . . it could truly be wonderful.

Her footsteps followed in time with the rhythm, gradually bringing her closer to the source.

"A little book here~and a little book there~" Shadows danced across the floor by the candlelight, moving in time with the song, "Spells in the pages~Oh and one alone on a chair~!"

Dorothea peeked beyond one of the bookshelves. Just on the other side was a redhead, her hair shimmering as she danced about, continuing her melody with bright humming. The bright blue bow at her back bounced as she danced between shelves, replacing the empty spaces in the bookshelf with large tomes.

With a smile, Dorothea leaned against the bookshelf, crossing her arms. She watched as Annette continued to move and sing. With the war as it was, they'd never really had much opportunity to talk. It was clear that Annette had some reservations about that whole endeavor, but so did all of them. All the death had to mean something—especially if it was the deaths of those they had once befriended. And, beyond that, there wasn't a good reason for mages of two very different schools to talk.

It was a shame; she was certain that this shared hobby would have lightened the mood between them.

"And one that's really dear~" Annette slid the last book of her current pile into the shelf, "and all done and fair! All done!"

"Oh my," Dorothea smiled, tone light and sweet, "I came for a book, and found a little bird instead."

Annette's shriek could very possibly be heard from the dormitories. She spun around, knocking over a pile that had been waiting for her attention. "D-D-Dorothea! Y-you can't be in here!"

"Well that's not very nice, Annie." Dorothea's pout was playful. "I only wanted to say hi."

"N-No, I mean, w-what are you doing in town?" She bent down, picking up her collapsed pile, trying to slow her breaths. When she spoke again, it was clear the act had eased the stammering, but definitely didn't slow the speed of her words. "Aren't you supposed to be in the Capital?"

Dorothea smiled. "I'm doing a performance to raise money. There's more variety in nobles here, so it should do well. Financially, anyway."

"O-oh." Annette blinked. "That's right. I'd forgotten. T-that's, um, really good of you."

"It is, isn't it?" Dorothea teased. She knelt down, picking up a few of the larger tomes and setting them back on the table.

"S-so, um, what will you do?" Annette's attempts at deflection weren't missed, but Dorothea let it slide. "An opera?"

"Hm, I'm not sure."

"Why not?" Annette stood, stacking her pile on top of Dorothea's before stacking it on another. She lifted the whole set in one go. The pile teetered as Annette stepped between the shelves.

Dorothea winced, dusting off her dress and following, eyeing the pile with care. "I didn't bring the Opera Company with me this time. Whatever I do, I'll need some volunteers. . . and it's not going to happen if I say 'let's do an opera'!"

"Well," Annette placed the books on another table, glancing up at a shelf half-empty of its contents. "When you decide, let me know. I'm sure I can convince my students to join."

Dorothea glanced at the stack of books. There was a definite lean there. "You should volunteer as well."

"O-oh, I couldn't! Absolutely couldn't!"

"If you're concerned about your work, I'm sure I could convince our old professor for some leniency."

Annette fervently shook her head, the mere force making her books sway slightly. "There's no reason to bother him! There's nothing I could--"

"I'm sure I could think of something. "

"T-That's very nice, but--"

"You're a lovely singer."

In a fraction of a second, Annette's face turned nearly as red as her hair. Her hand gripped at the back of the nearest chair, head tucked in like she was worried she might explode. "C-Can you please forget that?"

"Oh, I don't think so."

"Please . . . what do I have to do to make you forget?"

Dorothea mused. "Well, I'd like it very much if you sang with me now and then. It's so boring all alone. I'm sure--"

"Absolutely not!" Annette twitched with her whole body. It sent the chair slamming against the table, which made the pile of books crash down between them. "I-I-I have to go!"

Annette fled the room, leaving Dorothea alone with the mess.

Dorothea played with one of her curls, lips pressed together. Well, this was the first time someone was actively _repulsed_ by the idea of singing with her. But Dorothea was a patient—and persistent—woman. She could make this work in her favor.

This pile of books, on the other hand . . .

  
  


  
  


Annette sighed, watching the water trickle out of her watering can and into the ferns. She'd already nearly drowned two flower beds in her distraction. But if she went slow, then certainly she could space out for a little, couldn't she?

It had been nearly two days since her encounter with Dorothea, and she was _still_ on edge. Each activity had her peeking around corners for that telltale combination of long dark hair and a bright red dress. She ate at the most ridiculous hours to avoid even the chance of a Dining Hall confrontation. And, where she could manage, she went places she was absolutely _certain_ Dorothea wasn't.

It was one thing to be teased by Felix. But to be teased by a professional, a songstress, a _diva_ _—_ well, it was just too much to bear. No doubt she was laughing behind those manicured fingers of hers, talking about the silly girl who sang to books. Maybe even laughed at the foolishness of someone like Annette singing in the first place and—

"Oh, here you are." Dorothea's voice was warm, and still it felt like ice down Annette's spine. "You know, you're really hard to find. I had to ask Felix. Still so rude, that one."

_Felix_. The traitor. It was clear that Annette could never speak to him again.

"You know, I really wanted to talk with you." Dorothea chuckled. "And, really, I think you owe me that much after leaving me with your chores."

Annette couldn't hide the blush on her cheeks. How she had left was shameful. But it wasn't nearly as mortifying as being caught singing. So she had chosen the lesser evil and fled. That didn't mean she hadn't felt bad about it—or that she felt worse by her mess being already handled by the time she got back.

With a sigh, she nodded.

"Wonderful!" Dorothea clapped her hands together, brightly sitting at one of the nearby benches. She pat the space beside her.

Reluctantly, Annette took the invitation, setting the watering can between her feet. "So . . . what did you want to talk about?"

"Well, I wanted to sing a melody for you." Dorothea smiled. "I think it's only fair since you sang for me."

"Y-you really don't have to." Annette flushed deeper. "It's not like you did it on purpose."

"I _insist_."

"Oh, well . . . okay."

She could only sit there as Dorothea hummed a song. It was funny—she wasn't technically singing (and Annette knew by reputation that Dorothea was _very_ good at that), but it was still just as lovely. It was soft and sweet in a way that made the song innately comforting. In some ways, it felt familiar like a hug from an old friend. And it ended far too soon.

"Well?" Dorothea's smile was dazzling. "What did you think?"

"O-oh." Annette blinked. "That was lovely. I-is it from one of your operas?"

"No, it's not." The giggle was fond, not mocking in the slightest. "You don't recognize it?"

"No . . .?"

"It's yours, silly."

Annette gaped. " _What_?!"

"Well," Dorothea tapped her fingertip against her lip, glancing up at the glass roof, "technically it's a compilation. I only heard part of the book song. But there are others humming songs that are definitely yours. So I just combined them."

"Who." Annette clung to Dorothea's sleeve. " _Who?_ "She was definitely bright red--she could feel the flustered heat in her entire body.

Dorothea only laughed. "Oh, a few of your students. And . . .one other."

Annette clung harder. Students she could convince. Offer them extra credit to just forget. But this other person, whoever it was, they had to be silenced. "Dorothea, you _have_ to tell me."

"I have a better idea." Dorothea patted Annette's hand, the motion not nearly as placating as it should be. "Agree to be in my musical, and I'll tell you. You have to promise."

Annette paled. "No way! I'm not--"

"Not practiced, certainly. But with a little polish," Dorothea's smile turned sly, "you could be the loveliest bird on stage."

That was silly, foolish. An idle fantasy. Annette had reminded herself of this every time she'd been caught. And yet there was something enthralling about being on stage, singing her heart out. Bringing other people joy from something she loved to do.

She bit at her thumbnail. "It's for charity?"

"Of course."

"And you'll tell me who else has been humming?"

"Singing, actually, but yes."

This was a bad idea. A terrible, horrible idea. It would only lead to humiliation and endless torment.

Annette swallowed. "I promise."

"Wonderful!" Dorothea beamed bright. "Now, you can't tell him, but I caught Felix singing while cleaning the Training Ground. About swamp beasties, I think?"

Oh. This was definitely an _awful_ idea.

  
  



End file.
